Kiss of Life
by dreamscapenymph
Summary: Ren and Jeanne. Of Wedding Plans, Married Life, Milk, Fairytales and Men.
1. Chapter 1

/dedicated to the fic-that-never-was-but-supposed-to-be-or-perhaps-just-not-yet-by-me-and-lescribble. a wave out to her if she's reading, though I doubt it.

this pairing, though canon and all, needs more fic love! so let it be spread, like peanut butter and jelly on a humungous slice of bread!/

disclaimer: _fan_fiction! 'nuff said.

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Kiss of Life

[1] Reasoning

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_That's because she's smaller than me and not very annoying. And you're being really annoying by asking that so leave._

That's what he would tell anyone who would ask about the reason why he married her. Seriously, what was everybody's problem? Why was everybody so shocked that they ended up together? Even his sister and his parents couldn't speak when he brought her over and announced that he was going to marry her.

_B-b-but she's too young, and she's French, not Chinese—_

His sister had spluttered after about a minute of gaping like a yawning hippopotamus.

The answer had been a withering glare from him and a disconcerting stare from her.

His parents were wiser. They didn't say anything (though the both of them didn't miss the apprehensive looks that were shot their way every moment or so—the couple just chuckled it off afterwards, for some reason they enjoyed unnerving his parents) and introduced them to a wedding planner. Chinese.

Tapping into the mischievous side he never knew existed, he let her do all the planning, and asked his mother to stop interfering. She did, not for lack of trying—his fiancée was just as wily as hell, despite what she or her troops might claim about her saintliness. The wedding was just as he expected it to be—dark, goth, and the reception hall full of various torture instruments. Why they were there he didn't know and didn't bother. There wasn't a hint of anything Chinese, to the horror of his family members. He himself was dressed in black and white, various belts looped uselessly around his waist, chain cuffs on his hand, and a collar on his neck.

Later (that night, after he was sated and had let her exhibit the collar's use) he asked her what had happened to the Chinese wedding planner.

_--oh, let's just say that I have many more iron maidens hidden somewhere_—she paused, then added musingly_—though that person was gay…so when you think of it that was a total waste of an iron maiden—_

He silenced her ramblings with a kiss and a chuckle.

He never thought he would be chuckling and joking. With her. Of all people.

As she smiled into his lips and wound her arms around his neck, she said—_I'll make it up to your mother, I promise. I've had my fun already, and I guess it's time to be a good daughter-in-law? _She poked his cheek and pouted slightly, reducing the space between their lips by a tenth of a centimeter. _But I'm not sure if I'll let the gay wedding planner out though..._ Then she kissed him, and he wondered if she was sadistic and not masochistic.

He asked her, and she laughed at him quietly. She never answered his question. He could hazard a guess though, and an accurate one at that.

Looking back at that scene, he realized that what he said before was so wrong, and in total denial. One of the few times that he admitted to himself that he was in error.

_It's not just because she's smaller than me and not very annoying. I love her, I guess?_

There. He admitted it. Just to himself, though, and occasionally to her, in the privacy of their chambers. If he could, he could have despaired at the thought that that was not like him.

But he didn't. Never mind that it wasn't in his character to despair, but rather, he liked the belated realization that he loved her.

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/and yes, I fail at the concept called in character-ness. but it's fluffy and sweet and cheesy, so what else do we want? forgive me for sacrificing the character for fluff. which should never ever be done! DON'T follow rhia's example! _anyway, _do review!/


	2. Chapter 2

/yes, i thrive on fluff. HEEE./

Kiss of Life

[2] Whipped

He was slowly sinking into a sated, sleepy haze with his wife comfortably ensconced in the cocoon formed by his arms, when he heard a sudden question proposed lazily.

_-do you remember our first kiss?_

He grunted. She was being unpredictable today. As always.

…_at the Valley, when we—_

_No._

She had cut him off with a knowing smile, having rolled over on top of him, her fingers languidly playing with the dark hairs on his chest.

He ignored the deft hands that were slowly prodding his desire back to life and asked her.

_No?_

She shook her head.

_When I first revived you._

He half-sat up in surprise, his elbows supporting both their weights. His eyebrows were furrowed as he caught her hands and said.

_But it was Shamash—_

_Exactly._

He frowned. It was the second time that she cut him off that night. He usually did not allow for such behavior. He was about to voice his thoughts when she kissed him briefly on the mouth, her freed hands smoothing his furrowed eyebrows.

She smiled at him.

'_Twas the kiss of life._

He couldn't help it; he reddened. Her smile widened. She kissed him again, chastely.

_You're reverting back to thees and thous. _

He grunted at her again. For lack of anything to say.

_I know. _

There was blessed silence, where he thought that he could go back to sleep again. Wrong.

…_do you remember what I told you about fairytales?_

She seemed to be insistent about being talkative today, so contrary to her usual quiet. He raised an eyebrow at her.

_About Snow White. Sleeping Beauty._

Ah. He knew them. She had told him about them. Tales where the women where—

_Are you calling me weak?_

He was a bit angry at being implied as such. He sat up fully, dislodging her from his chest. They ended up with him sitting up, her head cradled in his lap where the sheets were bunched up. Nothing covered her naked body.

She still had the nerve to chuckle up at him. An arm reached up, and a hand caressed his neck, jaw, cheek.

_No, honey—_

And he dimly wondered where the endearment came from; she definitely wasn't one to call him honey.

_-I guess what I'm pointing out is that if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be here. Twice. _

Her gaze sharpened and an eyebrow was lifted delicately, goading him to contest that fact. His eyes narrowed a bit at the way she was treating him tonight. First she cut him off then this—

He sighed. Really, there was no going around this. If she couldn't win the argument, she could just seduce him into losing.

His head inclined, his shoulders shrugged, and the corners of his mouth lifted up in silent agreement.

Her answering smile was enough to forget her offenses against him that were listed earlier.

Really, he was just whipped as whipped can be.

(And no way in hell will the others know about this, he thought, as he lay down again, bringing her with him.)

The next morning, he was writing down the family's records when he came across a bit of information—she had many other ways of reviving a person, other than Shamash's kiss.

That meant…that perhaps she had feelings for him _even way back?_

_Even way back what?_

He looked up to see his wife sashaying to him, her face questioning, her clothes still defiantly European, to the eternal consternation of his mother. He hastily rolled the scroll he was writing in and greeted her with a _Nothing._

She shrugged, then went to him and sat on the edge of his table.

_Why are the tips of your ears red?_

She asked, flicking the renegade organ.

_N-nothing._

He repeated. Stuttering. He cursed silently.

They might not show it, but oh, they were BOTH as whipped as whipped can be. 

/i perpetrate feminist!fanfics. haha. i give too much focus on women's subtle controlling powers over males. _and don't we women rock?_ HEE. and forgive me. i just remembered _John Tucker Must Die._ and i may be drunk. on fluff. :O/


	3. Chapter 3

/it seems…i can't write anything but fluff! someone save me /

Kiss of Life

[3] Spike

There was always an inordinate amount of milk in the house. But as of now there were none. And she could only think of one culprit.

She wondered, as she waddled from the kitchen and into his office, if he would be consuming more milk than their unborn child.

_What are you doing walking around? The baby!_

He had stood up and rushed to her once he felt her presence.

She shushed him and placed his hand on her stomach. He couldn't stop the look of awe as he moved it around the marvel that was going to arrive any day now. She smiled at the gentle look in his eyes, and also marveled that someone like him could be wearing an expression like that.

And she was back to more pressing business.

_Where is all the milk?_

His head snapped up to look at her. She caught the momentary flash of guilt before his features rearranged into the default haughtiness.

_I have the servants buying more._

They would be back by tomorrow at the least. That was the disadvantage with living in the clan house in the mountains. She sighed. She was craving milk _now._

_Now?_

He blinked. He knew the signs of her pregnant cravings. After all, he held the brunt of it for more than eight months. And he knew how she was when those cravings wouldn't be fulfilled. Suffice it to say that it was his wife's version of 'you're-sleeping-on-the-couch-tonight.' Albeit with more torture.

She nodded at him, puppy dog eyes on full force.

He blinked again, and was gone in a moment's notice. She smiled. When he went, it would just take an hour, tops, for the milk to get here. Then she looked at the traditional robes billowing in the wind created by his hurrying and thought that he would be more handsome if he wore a suit.

As expected, the milk arrived after fifty-three minutes. She told him so with a smile, after a gulp of fresh milk.

_You kept count?_

She nodded at him, as she offered him the bottle. He took a swig and put it down. Then he looked at her.

_Jeanne? Are you okay?_

She was…wide-eyed. And hyperventilating. And clutching her back and stomach at the same time.

_Ren! The baby! It's coming!_

He had never felt so terrified in his entire life.

_Bason! Doctors!_

Then he heard a resounding slap. On his forearm. From her.

_I will not be having Chinese witch doctors! We have talked about this right from the start!_

She was screeching, and hysterical, and he remembered to stay level headed, to stay put, and to ignore the pinches and slaps she gave him every now and then.

_It's okay honey, it's going to be fine, and the doctors you wanted are coming as we speak._

_It is NOT going to be fine, YOU try! The iron maiden hurts less than this!_

_Honey—_

_Don't you honey me, Tao Ren! After this I'll be torturing you!_

_Now, honey—_

_I told you not to honey me!_

The moments after weren't any different from that.

Hours later, it was an exhausted husband that sighed with relief when his son—son! —was out.

_Oh, look, Ren, he already has a small spike of hair, just like you did when you were born_,

His old mother observed. His family had come to the birthing room, too.

The grip on his left hand relaxed, and he looked over his wife to wipe the sweaty bangs off her forehead.

_Why isn't he crying-?_

His wife asked in a breathy voice.

They both looked up to see the doctor slap the baby's bottom.

There was no reverberating cry.

Instead, the small silver spike of hair lengthened, and the baby opened its red eyes to glare at the room's occupants.

There was a moment of stunned silence before everybody laughed.

_Oh, Ren, he is just like you!_

The fatigued mother proclaimed.

Everybody laughed, that is, except for the new father.


	4. Chapter 4

/er. yeah. hi! lol/

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Kiss of Life

[4] Reunion

_I wonder how you'd look if you wore a suit instead of these traditional Chinese robes?_

She had asked him one day, as she fingered the red, silky sleeve of what he was wearing.

He grunted at her, he was reading an old letter, one that told of what was going to happen in three days. She read over his shoulder to see what it was that had robbed his attention from her.

_They'll be back? _

He nodded perfunctorily, still preoccupied. He wondered if he would be able to bring Men. He voiced it out.

She was surprised.

_He's just an infant…but of course._

Her eyes twinkled.

_I can only imagine some of the reasons why you wanted to bring him…_

His gaze snapped to hers. Her eyes were still twinkling merrily.

…_don't say anything._

She laughed.

When he came back more than a week later, with a glowering Men in his arms, she asked, pressing a kiss into each of their cheeks.

_Well, how was it?_

_It was such a laugh. _

_They were shocked about Men, weren't they?_

He laughed and the little one gurgled, as she took the much-missed child from his arms.

_Yes, they were. And they wouldn't believe it was you whom I married._

_Well, we've never told them about anything. And the wedding we had was only for your mother's guests. All Chinese. _

He hugged both his child and wife from the back, and heard her underlying words.

_Did it upset you that much?_

_No, you of all people knew how much fun I had._

She chuckled.

_How were they?_

_They were fine. It was the same, as if five years hadn't passed. _

She smiled up at him.

_How was Ryu?_

She asked him fluidly, gently smoothing the hair out of the now-sleeping infant's forehead.

His eyebrow rose ever so slightly and she chuckled at him again.

_If you're asking about that weird person who had declared his love for you and for a million other girls and girly men, he looked forlorn after realizing that it was you whom I married. But then he got over it. Lyserg was there, after all._

He snorted.

She laughed at him again.

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/i has a penchant for he-she fics. yuh. /


	5. Chapter 5

/last!/

Kiss of Life

[5] They

They weren't affectionate to each other—both didn't believe in displays of affection. When company other than him was present, they would refrain from touching each other, even go as far as refusing to acknowledge the other even if they were together. The distance between them remained as close as close could be, though, just without touching.

He never saw them kiss or hold hands, or even whisper fond words to each other. No. His parents were cold to each other. As they were cold to him.

In public.

Inside the papered walls of the mansion in the mountains, however (for his mother had long resigned herself to a future without a European house), they were family. Though in his presence they still refused to hold hands, there was the warmth and sincerity of a home and a loving family. The three of them would never admit it (for they were in nature cold and quiet, and he wondered, how could we survive as we have in silence and whispers and training?), but they reveled in the company of each other, and they wouldn't have it any other way. The mansion was so quiet a pin could be heard dropping (well, really, that was an exaggeration), but warmth pervaded the air whenever they were together, and he knew he and his mother felt secure whenever father was around, and there was a quiet and subtle pride in father whenever he chanced to glance upon his wife and son.

And inside their room, Men could hear snatches of whispered affection from his father, his mother's teasing questions, and the lighthearted banter. (And there was also the fact that his mother was pregnant with his little sister, so there had to be something going on behind their door.) And he could distinctly remember, when he was still small enough to be tucked into bed, the careful kiss his mother bestowed upon his forehead, and the callous thumb his father had used to smooth his furrowed brows.

_He'll be a good shaman someday._

_That he will._

Other people might think that they weren't married, what with the way they treated each other in public, but in their undisturbed home they were the best parents ever.

/aww the cheese. and corn. I CANNOT HELP MYSELF. i am too corny for words./


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